


A victory in blood written

by LdyBastet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Death Eaters, The Quidditch Pitch: Darkness Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-30
Updated: 2007-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdyBastet/pseuds/LdyBastet
Summary: Lucius is tired of his father's machinations and takes matters into his own hand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Lucius watched as the older man's horse stumbled on the thick branch that suddenly appeared from nowhere and threw its rider. The chestnut recovered, but only ran a few steps more before stopping, perhaps realising that the Wizard who used to control it with iron spurs and hard hands was gone from its back.

The wand was returned to Lucius' pocket. When he reached the place where the horse was grazing, he reined his own in and dismounted, patting his horse on its neck. He took a few moments to make sure that the other horse was all right, and that no harm had come to it from his little trick. The chestnut had calmed though, and it nudged at Lucius' cheek, blowing air in his face. It was almost as if the horse knew what he had done and was showing its gratitude.

It was early morning, and there was still some heavy mist clinging to this area, giving it a slightly dreamlike atmosphere. Was he dreaming this, Lucius wondered as he stepped off the field and in between trees. There, among the rocks, lay the twisted form of a man.

Lucius walked carefully up to it, fingering the wand in his pocket, ready to draw it should he need it. He didn't think that the fall had been anticipated, but he would be a fool if he underestimated the other man. As he stepped closer, the only sounds that could be heard were those of the horses, the crisp autumn leaves under Lucius' feet, and the wheezing breath of the injured man. The fog both muffled the sounds and gave them resonance, not making them louder, but more distinct because of the illusion of absolute solitude.

It was no dream, Lucius was reassured as he bent down and looked into eyes narrowed by hatred, the eyes of his father. Only reality could convey that gaze, stark and honest. Abraxas Malfoy always had been honest about what he thought about Lucius' choices.

'Are you hurt, Father?' Lucius smiled faintly. No reply came. Lucius' father abhorred weakness, and would never willingly admit to it.

Lucius knelt by his side, not caring that a sharp rock dug painfully into one knee. He reached out with one hand; the smooth leather of his glove was a barrier, a shield, when he caressed his father's cheek. The cold eyes bore into him, disgusted at what appeared to be a show of affection.

'Oh, don't worry, Father. No one will find out...' When Lucius' fingers reached the blond hair, they grabbed it, hard enough to make it sting, even though it must have paled in comparison to the pain that coursed through Abraxas' broken body.

'You see, I have no wish to tell anyone, and you won't be able to. I have decided that I am the one in control of my life.'

'About time,' wheezed Abraxas.

'Yes, it certainly is,' said Lucius thoughtfully. 'I let you control it far too long.'

His father snorted disdainfully, but the effect was ruined by a cough.

'You're not fit to control your life, Lucius! You bow to anyone who is stronger than you.' Spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth, and Lucius noted that it was tinged red, red with blood. It softened the cut of the words, as did the knowledge that there was no truth to them.

'You have always confused love with obedience, Father. I loved you once and therefore I obeyed your wishes.' Again, the look of contempt on the pale face, and Lucius knew that he was stronger than his father, for he dared to love. 'I bow to the Dark Lord for as long as it serves my purposes. But I don't bow to you, Father. Not anymore. The Dark Lord can bring me what I want. You have proved that all you want is to take that away from me...'

Lucius looked into his father's eyes again, wondering if his sight was as clear as it used to be, or if it was dimming by now. What did he see? Did his life pass before them? It must be a bleak review if it did, Lucius thought and smiled again.

'You lost, Father.'

The eyes widened. Clearly, Abraxas was not happy about the implication.

Lucius' grip on the hair tightened as he leaned closer and whispered soft words in his father's ear, before lifting the heavy head and bringing it down hard on the rock on which it had rested, and the ground was washed with blood.

'I will have Severus again.'


	2. Chapter 2 - Funeral of a wand

  
Author's notes:  


* * *

A wand is personal; it chooses its wielder rather than the other way around. There is more than one wand that suits a particular person, of course, so all hope is not lost should one's wand be damaged or broken. However, the first wand that one is chosen by is always very special, and the wand grows to become an extension of the witch or wizard - deeply personal. Some people will not allow others to touch their wands.

Lucius' father had used the same wand all his life.

As was the custom, he was buried with it. Part of the funeral ritual was for the heir, or next of kin, to place the wand in the hand of the deceased, the hand that was the person's wand-hand in life. It was a very private ritual, a gesture of respect, before the coffin was closed at last.

Lucius studied the face of his dead father, standing next to the open casket, wand in his hand. He lifted the wand and studied that as well – long and slender, with a carving of a snake slithering round and round, up over the wand, made of polished ebony and with a core that was unknown to Lucius. It was a powerful wand, just like Abraxas had been a powerful wizard.

He took the wand in both hands, and with a sardonic smile, snapped it in half, the sound of cracking wood breaking the silence in the room.

So easily was power broken, as easy and sudden as a fall from a horse's back. It was something that Lucius' father had forgotten, and Lucius vowed, as he threw the pieces of the broken wand into the coffin, that he would not make the same mistake. There are many ways to obtain and use power, and the truculence with which his father had wielded it did not appeal to Lucius. Threats and excessive employment of force, ruling even his family by terror and fear, would only take you thus far, and in the end led to a feeling of false security, of invincibility and over-confidence. Lucius would control and plot and build his power differently, using cunning and striking bargains and deals, not by intimidation alone.

He planned to have a long life. And he planned to have love in it as well.

Lucius closed and sealed the coffin and turned to leave, but his gaze fell on his father's old cane in the corner – a memento of Lucius' grandfather, and a beautiful and elegant workmanship of dark wood and silver. It was time that it came to use again, Lucius decided, and took it with him as he left to have a light lunch with his mother before the funeral. The serpent's head with its bared fangs would be his symbol now, his silent statement of power. He would bring it to Diagon Alley to be fitted to his wand, and to have a new cane made that could serve as a sheath for the wand, a hiding place of sorts.

Elegance... Manipulation... Deception. That was the true path of a Malfoy. A hard fist covered in leather and fur, no less hard or unyielding, but with at least a touch of subtlety. Family were allies, not insubordinate beings needing to be cowed. Family shouldn't be given reasons to hate... because family were far closer than an enemy would ever be allowed, and therefore more dangerous if darker emotions were evoked and love turned to ashes.

Lucius entered his mother's room, where lunch was already laid out on the small table in front of the window. She smiled at him as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, and Lucius thought she had more colour on her cheekbones now; the strained look had been lifted.

'I hope you don't mind, Mother, but I have asked Severus to come and stay for a while,' he said and placed the napkin in his lap.

~*~  


'Dreadful accident, Lucius,' Cornelius said. 'And how unfortunate that he landed on those rocks.'

Lucius nodded, a sufficiently serious look firmly in place on his features.

'Yes.' He sighed and lifted the glass to his lips. 'But my father always was a stubborn man. He should probably have stayed in bed, but I think he found it embarrassing to come down with Dragon Pox at his age.' He drank some wine, letting the layers of rich flavours seduce his tastebuds.

'True, true. Yet, going out riding while running a fever!'

'I take some consolation in that he was most likely unconscious when he fell. The doctor said it was a very violent form of the Pox...'

'I hope I won't get the same strain, but I had the Dragon Pox as a child, so I am probably safe. A tragedy indeed. Do give my condolences to your mother, Lucius.'

Lucius inclined his head, then excused himself to exchange more empty words and nonsensical phrases with the other guests. Some even took the opportunity to congratulate him on now having full control over the Malfoy fortune, as well as asking for favours.

There were always those who bowed to the one who was stronger. Lucius caught Severus' gaze across the room and smiled. And then there were those who needn't bow.


End file.
